home is where the heart is
by DSForeverandAlways
Summary: Two weeks. Two weeks of missing his voice and his hands, the soft curve of his smile in the morning. Two weeks without him. For Chiara.


**home is where the heart is**

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**A/N: Happy Birthday, Herbie! I know I still owe you a first time fic and I know we haven't been that close in the past few months, but this one is for you. Have a good day, bby. Ily **

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Serena shoves her hands into her pockets, pressing her thumbs hard into her tighs to keep herself from bouncing on the spot. The crowd buffets her as she cranes her neck, scanning the ever moving throng of people, anticipation running hot through her veins.

Two weeks. Two weeks of late night texts and missed phone calls. Of missing his voice and his hands, the way his body feels under hers, the soft curve of his smile in the morning. Two weeks without him.

Too long.

She spots him through a hole in the shifting crowd, that stupid Yankees hat he insists on wearing pulled snug around his ears. He claims it's so he doesn't get recognized by fans but they both know he only wears it because he likes to pretend he's on some covert mission, darting across the airport with purpose like he's in a spy movie. She lets him get away with it, because she loves the way his hair stands on end when he pulls that hat off, giving her an excuse to touch him, to run her fingers over the bumps and ridges of his scalp, feel the hum vibrate through his chest.

He bypasses baggage claim, duffle bag clutched tightly in his hand, and she skirts the edges of the crowd, angling for the best location to intercept him. To surprise him. The mirrored sunglasses mask his eyes but she knows he's scanning the milling group of travelers, looking for potential threats to his mission. And paparazzi.

She catches him by the wrist, her fingers slipping over his skin, and he jerks, pulling his arm out of her grasp. Bag slamming against his leg, Dan spints on the spot, mouth open. He chokes hard on whatever remark he was spooling up, his throat bobbing as he stares at her. She drinks him in, the low slung jeans, the tight grey t-shirt with the deep vee, the barely concealed bulge of his biceps. Stepping into him, Serena curls her fingers into his belt loops and pushes up on her toes, pressing her open mouth to his skin, swirling her tongue through the deep hollow at the base of his throat. His low groan vibrates against her lips and his bag hits her hard in the back of the tighs as he wraps his arms around her, yanking her body up against his.

"What are you doing here?" He growls the question in her ear and she trembles, the low timbre of his voice slicing hotly through her stomach. "Isn't it your annual Breakfast At Tiffany's Sunday with Blair?"

"Got Chuck to take her out for breakfast." His hand fists in the back of her shirt when she bites hard at the side of his neck. "I couldn't wait until tonight to see you."

"Oh, really? And why's that? Did you miss me or something?"

"Yes," she breathes against his ear, smiling at the way he shivers against her. "So very much."

He chokes out her name, his hips arching against her. She can feel the heat of him pressing hard into her tigh and squeezes her legs together, the desperate need for him spiraling and starts to walk, briskly weaving through the throng that surrounds them.

"Where are we going? The exit is-"

He stops abruptly when he sees where she's led them, his mouth tipping up into a predatory grin. "Serena van der Woodsen," he whispers, tugging her back up against his chest, his mouth skimming across her cheek. "I am shocked that you would even suggest such a thing."

Sliding her hand between their bodies, she spins them ninety degrees, putting his back to the crowd as she reaches down and cups him, feels his hips twitch hard against her grip. "Do you really want to wait until we hail a cab, drive all the way across town in late afternoon traffic and then chase your dad out of the loft?"

"Never," he hisses, nipping at her earlobe, "mention my dad while your hand is doing that."

"What, this?" She slips down further and feathers her fingers against him, grinning as he groans into her ear.

"We need to get into that bathroom in the next ten seconds if you don't want to get arrested for public indecency."

Laughing, Serena releases him and steps back, her grin growing as he shifts his bag, holding it awkwardly over the front of his pants, both hands clenched tightly around the handle. She holds up her hand, five fingers spread wide, and then points to the door. Dan nods, the brim of his hat casting a long shadow over his face. Spinning on her heel, Serena pushes through the swining door, makes a quick sweep of the bathroom. Five stalls, all empty. Her hand is still pressed against the door of the last stall when the door swooshes open and Dan tumbles in, his duffle thumping against his shins.

"Flip the lock." Dan drops his bag and thumbs the security lock, grinning as he turns around and stalks towards her. "And lose the hat."

"Nope." He backs her into the stall, angling them sideways so he can shut the door, the long line of his body pressing her into the wall. "Hat stays on. I'm undercover, after all."

"Dan, I swear to-" He silences her threat with a hot kiss, his lips hard and insistent, tongue sweeping wetly over her lips. Serena moans and wraps herself around him, one hand threading through the hair at the base of his skull, the other gripping his ass, pulling him into her hips. His hands roam, pulling at her shirt, slipping under the hem to trail fire over her stomach and back, the tips of his fingers dipping into the waist of her eans, swirling lazily over the small of her back.

"God, I missed you," he pants against her cheek, his hands curcumnavigating her waist, pulling at the button of her jeans. Dan presses his hand to her stomach, thumb sweeping low to scoop under the waistband of her underwear. She plucks the glasses from his face, folding the arms and hooking them into the neck of his shirt. His eyes are bright and happy and she smiles up at him, her hands running lightly over his cheeks.

"Hi," she laughs, her hips arching off the wall as his hand twists and slips lower.

Dan cups his hand over her, dipping into her arousal with his middle finger. He grins and leans in, his mouth hovering above hers, breath hot and damp over her cheeks. "Hello" His leg slides between hers and Serena sinks, traps his hand between them. She rolls her hips and slides shallowly into her, pulling twin groans from their chests. "Fuck, you're wet, Serena."

"I know," she breathes, her teeth catching on the corner of his mouth. "Are you going to make blatantly obvious statements or are you going to do something about it?"

"Oh, no sex for two weeks makes you sassy." He pushes into her, two thick fingers filling her, streching her apart, and Serena bites down on her bottom lip, tries to hold back the ragged cry brewing in her lungs. "I like it."

Dan leans in and traces his tongue along her lip, scraping the tip over the sharp ridges of her teeth. He pries her lip free and sucks it between his own, soothing the string of her bite with the warmth of his mouth, the wet slide of his tongue. His hand pumps between her legs, the thin metal wall shaking at her back. With a twist of his wrist, his thumb connects with her clit and she moans, a dark, wild sound, pouring out of her chest, echoing off the bright white industrial tiles.

Serena runs her hands down his chest, tugging at his shirt, skimming her nails over the bunched and flexing muscles of his stomach. His hips rock in time with his fingers and she grips him through that front of his pants, swallowing down his hungry growl as she pops the buttons on his fly, working her hand into the loose denim.

"Impatient?"

"Yes," she bites, her fingers slipping into his boxers, fluttering over the length of him. "We're having sex in a dirty airport bathroom, Dan. Bit of time crunch inherent in that scenario."

"Well, in that case-" Serena whimpers softly when he slides his fingers out of her, watches with wide eyes as he brings his hand to his mouth, making obscene noises as he sucks his fingers clean, the pink tip of his tongue sliding suggestively between his knuckles.

"Dan."

His hands fall to her hips, pressing her back into the cold metal, tugging her pants down around her tighs. He slides into her, filling her in one swift push. The cubicle is tight, their bodies pressed uo against both sides as he thrusts into her, deep, hard pushes that have her panting out his name, her fingers clawing desperately at the slick wall.

"Fuck, Serena," he groans, his right hand slipping around to cup her, fingers searching out her clit. She cries out when he flicks two fingers over her, a twist and a hard circle all she needs. His hand clamps over her mouth, muffling her barely restrained screams, her orgasm ripping through her hard and fast, her legs shaking. Dan's mouth lands on her shoulder, teeth cutting into her as he follows, her name hiccupping through his chest.

They stand panting for a minute, the bill of his hat scraping at her neck as he kisses her shoulder, his hands large and warm over her stomach. Serena shifts and he pulls out of her straightening and tucking himself back into his pants. She trips the flimsy metal lock and pushes him out the door, grinning at his astonished look when she promptly shuts it in his face.

"What the hell?"

"Clean up," she explains, shaking her head at his usual lack of basic comprehension skills immediately following an orgasm.

His boots clomp off and she hears the water start in the sink, the automatic hand dryer clicking on. She flushes the toilet with the toe of her left shoe and straightens her clothes before opening the door and joining him at the sink. He stands behind her as she washes her hands, his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. Serena catches his eye in the mirror and laughs, her lips curling up into a happy grin.

"What's so funny?"

"I can't believe you kept that hat on."

"I'm incognito, Serena. Can't blow my cover."

"Well," Serena says, her eyebrow arching," maybe if you're lucky, we can arrange for other things to be blown later tonight."

Dan barks out a laugh, his arms falling away as he steps back and stoops to pick up his bag. "Have I told you lately how much I love your filthy mind?"

Serena rests her hand on his chest, catching his lips in a tender kiss. "I think you might have mentioned that a few nights ago on the phone, yeah."

His eyes light up, boyish excitement filling his face. "You remember that?"

"Yeah, Dan. I wasn't as sleepy as you seemed to think I was. I knew _exactly_," she flips the lock on the door, the metal tongue retracting with a satisfying snick, "what I was agreeing to."

"I love you," he breathes, elated awe in his voice.

"I love you too, Dan." She smacks him lightly on the ass, laughing at the way he jumps. "Now put your sunglasses back on, secret agent man. We have bad guys to evade."


End file.
